


give me the first taste

by zauberer_sirin



Series: makeouts are mandatory [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, POV Phil Coulson, Unresolved Sexual Tension, framework setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Written for the Cousy Kisses Drabble-a-thon. Prompt: "lipstick"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



Later he will imagine he kisses her at this moment, because that is what he wants to do.

Probably.

(If he’s honest with himself)

But he doesn’t.

Instead: she’s running. Now that he is awake and aware Aida can’t control him, but she can control the rest of the world, a Hydra world set on finding Daisy and destroying her. She hides, she runs. He helps. He watches her change her clothes in the restroom of a gas station. She changes her hair. 

“I need to get Mack out next,” she tells him.

Coulson nods, a knot in his stomach because two days ago he didn’t remember who Mack is, all the time they spent together gone in a second when he was plugged to this world. He can’t stop thinking about how that knot in his stomach isn’t even real, because his body is somewhere else. His body is somewhere else - not the first time he’s felt like this. He can’t understand how Daisy had the courage to come here of her own will, to let herself be plugged too. But then he remembers Daisy, who she is, and he understands.

He watches her apply orange gloss on her cracked lips, one of the few things she grabbed in her quick trip to the shop. They are so close and suddenly he smells the fruit-like scent on Daisy, her lips glistening in a kind of coral shade once applied.

He imagines brushing his lips against the color and tasting it directly.

He wonders how real is that desire - he still has the memory of being this other person, this other Phil Coulson, he hasn’t shaken him off, and maybe this moment belongs to him. Later he will excuse his cowardice with that, the fact that he didn’t completely know who he was at every moment.

Daisy looks in the dirty mirror above the sink and then back at Coulson, for confirmation that she looks different enough to escape Aida’s security measures (he suddenly remembers all the times he has watched Daisy change her look, back there, in the real world). There’s a hint of smile there, a resigned, brave smile, in the place of admitting she’s scared to go back out there. He reaches out his hand and brushes his thumb against her mouth, drawing the line, feeling the cold, sticky lip gloss. The gesture is slow and seems to go on and on. When he drops his hand (he will smell her on his skin for hours), Daisy gives him a gentle, wondering look, but she says nothing. Coulson says nothing either, unable to explain himself, or take the moment further than it’s already gone.

 

&

He’s sitting on her bed, waiting as she takes off her mission clothes and gets ready, before going out to dinner. Over the bed the contents of her bag spread, obviously she was looking for something. A tube of lip gloss catches Coulson’s eye like a pleasant memory.

He wraps his hand around it, but it’s not the same color. Of course, how it could be. That was over there, that wasn’t real. He takes off the cap anyway and brings the stick closer, taking in the fruity scent. It’s red, not orange. But it smells like Daisy, a familiar one. So familiar.

She has probably forgotten about that moment in the gas station toilets; he has kissed her enough times in between that the failure to kiss her then doesn’t sit heavily on his conscience.

Coulson touches the gloss to his lips for a moment, drawing the curve of his own mouth. He’s not sure why he does it, except maybe to get closer to Daisy. Nothing seems to be close enough. The gloss feels cold and nice against his lips.

When he looks up Daisy opens the door, her favorite hair dryer in hand (it’s such an old thing, but she won’t part with it), and gives him a look. 

Coulson puts down the lip gloss.

“That one’s my favorite, you know,” Daisy tells him, casually.

She leaves the hair dryer on the bathroom and walks to the bed, pressing her hands to Coulson’s shoulders and leaning over him. She does what he didn’t have the nerve to in that restroom. She kisses him, running her tongue along his bottom lip, tasting him.


End file.
